The sunstar floats unfixed except in charts
of planetary arcs the monkeys drew.
Mythologies eclipsed the voodoo arts,
and monkeys warred to prove which one most true.
For irony, a jillion zillion stars
in galaxies insanely numerous,
no doubt have monkeys more astute than ours
who'd view our ignorance as humorous.
The one path given men to rise above
that wingless swarm of fools who lust for doom,
begins as conscious will and ends as love.
Now god-like luminance ignites the gloom,
And all men can behold their source and seed,
Where end's run true to origins, indeed.